


That's Rough, Buddy.

by bpd_mp4



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Detentionstuck, Drug Use, Drugs, M/M, Misgendering, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Violence, in later chapters tho ;0, its briefly in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpd_mp4/pseuds/bpd_mp4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You watch in horror as the other boy falls off the edge of the lone apartment building, surrounded by the ocean and void of any other human being. You, apparently, are not human, and you realize this as your body whirs in response to your distress. You hear a shout, a cry for help, just before the loud splash sounds, and you move before even a second thought. You throw yourself over, landing feet first into the ocean, but the salt doesn't hurt your eyes, and you don't feel very much pain from the fall.<br/>--<br/>THIS WORK HAS BEEN ABANDONED. I still love this AU to death but my passions have moved on and my writing style has also changed. I will be leaving this up and MAYBE rewriting over next summer/this winter break, but school is too much for me to hold this fic together. It was also written two years ago when I was but a teensy little 14 year old so oof. My writing has improved by a landslide!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Runaway Baby

**Author's Note:**

> So, before you start: Yes, the chat log isn't properly formatted. I literally never do html ever and so that's why it looks pretty disgusting. Dirk is trans in this so have fun with that!
> 
> This work is no longer in progress and I have since lost both the original Google Doc and all my passion to continue. I may finish or at least rewrite this sooner or later, but only if people really want it B')

_You watch in horror as the other boy falls off the edge of the lone apartment building, surrounded by the ocean and void of any other human being. You, apparently, are not human, and you realize this as your body whirs in response to your distress. You hear a shout, a cry for help, just before the loud splash sounds, and you move before even a second thought. You throw yourself over, landing feet first into the ocean, but the salt doesn't hurt your eyes, and you don't feel very much pain from the fall. You see him, the olive-skinned boy sinking quickly, bubbles rising up and out from his open mouth as he sinks faster. You fear whatever is that replaces your heart pounding, and you repeat a mantra in your mind. 'He can't die, he can't die, don't let him die like this, not now.' You reach out for his hand, grabbing it hard, not knowing your own strength, and beg to whatever God may listen that whoever this boy is makes it out safe, for your sake, and his._  
__You wake from your dream and sit up in bed, startled and clutching the sheets as if you were holding someones wrist in a death grip. Your blonde hair falls around your face, long and unruly as always but you can't be bothered to fix the bangs that hang in your eyes and move as you blink. You still feel the impending horror of watching that boy almost drown in your dream, and you can still hear the mechanical heartbeat in your dream if you focus. His face is clear in your mind, the black hair billowing in the ocean as the water drags him into its dark depths, the olive skin pale and almost lifeless. There was a beauty to him you couldn't put into words, and an overwhelming feeling that you had both met before, in some life perhaps far off and forgotten.  
You shake your head as you hear your mother's voice calling you to wake up, that you'll be late if you keep waking up so late, and you drag yourself from bed reluctantly. You go through your morning motions in exhaustion, eyes barely opening enough to let you move without bumping into everything near you.  
“Move it, Hal-y, bitch gotta get shit done,” Roxy laughs as she slams the door into you while you brush your teeth, but all you can muster is a huff and a quick pinch on her arm to warn her off. Your sister sticks out her tongue in mock disgust as you spit out the toothpaste remains in your mouth which is tinged with blood from how rough you were dragging the bristles across your gums.  
She says something about floss but you push her out after she's done brushing her own teeth for some privacy. Sometimes you wonder if she would ever have the decency to leave the bathroom on her own while you shower, and you feel bad for giving her such little credit. You run the hot water and push off your shitty, five dollar boxers before standing under the steady stream. You let the water run through your hair and sigh pleasantly, the warmth a blessing in the cold of your huge mansion. You really are fucking blessed to live in this place now, and you’re always thankful but right now, you are extremely annoyed as your mother bursts into the bathroom to tell you to go faster or you’ll have to use your bike.  
You take as long as possible just to piss of everyone in the house, and Rose just walks in, paying you no mind and brushing her teeth, her short hair hair frazzled and kinky as always. The undercut suits her and you wish you could rock the haircut, but your hair isn’t nearly as curly. She shoots you a sideways glare and you almost jump out of your skin. Your whole family honestly terrifies the fuck out of you and they know it.  
She leaves just before you hop out, shaking your head like a dog before drying it quickly with the towel. You rush after that, drying yourself on the way to your room for clothes, knowing Mom will be pissed at you for getting her precious hardwood floors wet, but you just want to be dry. You snatch the first shirt off the pile of freshly folded clothes that sits next to your dresser. You never bother to put things away, and you think you probably should as you pull new boxers on and squeeze into your velvety soft red jeans. Thank God for money, right?  
You hear the car drive away before you see it, rushing to the window and swearing profusely. You’re going to have to take your bike on the first day of Junior year, and if it gets scratched, you will throw an actual hissy fit. You tie your hair in a sloppy bun, gel your bangs lazily and slap on a beanie to hide the mess that is your morning hair. You have no time to eat a proper breakfast so you snatch a bag of oreos from the cupboard and call it food to save time.  
Hopping on one foot by the door, only one shoe on, you reach into the pocket of your jacket as you pull it off the rack and groan when your keys aren’t there. You find them eventually, hanging on one of the several tacs under the calendar before dashing out the door, pulling your other sneaker on as you sit down on the motorcycle, not even bothering to put on the helmet as you hear the wheels screech before the bike bolts from its place in the driveway. To be fair, your high school building isn’t far away, and you could care less about another tardy, but if Mom finds out about it, you won’t make the night. That woman really scares the crap out of you.  
You get into your homeroom right as the bell rings and you haven’t taken the biker jacket off so everyone stares in confusion. Mr. Nitram says something but you can’t be arsed to listen as you sit in the last seat available - all the way in the back, next to some black haired girl with what looks like shades on and a bad do-it-yourself style pixie cut. She looks up at you, and your heart stutters because you recognize that face, but it shouldn’t be be under those choppy bangs, those generic glasses. It definitely should be under ridiculous triangle shades and black styled hair.  
You snarl at her and she looks disgusted, but you turn before you could start caring. You can’t focus because something nags you in the back of your mind to ask her name, but she ignores your attempt to poke her. The teacher finally shuts up, gives the class five minutes to socialize and ‘befriend thy neighbor’ so you take it as a chance to ask.  
“Hey, girly-” You start and she makes the most inhuman sound anyone could possibly make as she snaps her head up.  
“I am a boy, you blind fucker,” He snaps, and you blink a few times before laughing deep in your chest, everyone turning to look at you for a moment before going back to whatever it is they were doing. The boy looks exasperated, glaring even more and fixing his mess of hair. He says nothing until your finish laughing and when you look back at him, he’s frowning deeply. “What’s so funny, asshole?” He asks, and you huff in amusement.  
“Sorry, dude, I just assumed you were a girl since you’ve got what looks like a pixie cut going on up here,” You respond, pointing at your own head and laughing again. The bell rings before you can say anything else and he stands, slings a messenger back over his shoulder and walks off, not even another word or even a half decent goodbye from the mystery kid. You catch a glance of his bag, which looks like it has some weird anime drawn on it, and decide that whoever he is probably wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like you anytime in the near future.  
You get late to first period because you can’t keep your mind off the boy in your dream and the Anime Kid from your homeroom. You find out, throughout the day, that you and Anime Kid have four periods together, and also that he and Roxy are apparently friends. You decide to pester the crap out of your sister until she tells you the details, so you wait until fifth period and sit in the back of class before taking out your phone and opening up Pesterchum.  
tenebroseTheatric [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]  
TT: Give me the details, RoLal.  
TG: lol what details?  
TT: Who’s the kid in Nitram’s homeroom?  
TT: He’s got shitty brown hair, dumb glasses and a shitty anime bag.  
TG: OH lmao you mean dirk? hes brand spankin new!! just moved here with his fam or somethn like that  
TT: His name is Dirk.  
TT: Are you fucking kidding me? As if wearing shades and an anime bag to school wasn’t enough of an insult to his own humanity.  
TG: i wouldnt talk shit dude.  
TG: hes not the one wearing those disgusting jeans  
TT: I’m going to kill you for saying that, asshole.  
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering tenebroseTheatric [TT]  
TT: Wow, bye to you too, then, Roxy.  
tenebroseTheatric [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]  
You turn your phone off, kick your feet up on the desk and sigh. You only have to last one more hour after this and then you’re home free to find Squarewave and beat the shit out of that loud-mouth freshman. He still owes you 50 bucks for losing your good weed.


	2. Nicotine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You admit defeat and unhand the small hispanic boy, turning slowly with your hands up and a sly grin as you turn to face whoever it is making your blood boil. Of course, it’s Mr. English, and you glare at him as you walks over as quick as his ‘adventurer’ legs can carry him in his old age. He grabs you by the forearm and you wince in his grip, rolling your eyes and laughing.  
> “Got a strong grip there, grandpa. What’re you gonna do next, call me a bad boy?” You joke with him, and he drags you to the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it hasn't even been 24 hours yet. Is anybody still here? IDK. I'm pretty tired but here it is admittedly short but still a thing. Has anybody noticed my shitty chapter names? No? Whelp. Anyway, Hal finds out some good fucking shit. It get's kinda gay, but only on Hal's end for now.

You’re already out of sixth period Biology with Ms. Demigo before the bell rings, having gone to the bathroom to escape the boredom of having to sit through her talking ever so slowly about whatever the hell lessons were about on any given day.  
You see Squarewave, eyes locking for a moment before the fake-ginger boy stiffens, terror replacing the laughing smile on his face.  
That kid is so dead.  
Before you even start walking towards him, he turns and bolts, and you swing your bag over your shoulder and start the same old game of hide and seek that Squarewave loves to play. You catch a glimpse of him as he turns tail into an outside path and go after him, pushing past pissed off crowds and shoving around anyone even slightly shorter than you. You slam face first into a massive figure and look up, about to tell them to get the fuck out of your way when you realize who it is. Sawtooth, your absolutely shitty best friend who loves to kick your ass, is staring down at you with the same stoic expression he always has, but the exasperation is clear in his eyes but you just glare at him.  
“What are you doing, Hal?” He asks, monotone, and you seriously want to grind your teeth and punch him too, but you steel yourself, begrudgingly grinning like the asshole you are.  
“Squarewave lost my good shit. I’m gonna beat him up for his probably nerd-contaminated lunch money,” You sneer, rolling your eyes and he just grunts, not letting you pass. Of course, he wouldn’t want you to beat up Squarewave, seeing as that’s his little brother, and you snarl.  
“You Gomez’s are always so uptight. Just lemme land one hit, he’ll only have a few bruises, maybe a black eye, or a split lip. No biggie. He’s had worse from his exes,” You reason, but Sawtooth seems intent on making you stay, so you try to fake him out.  
You turn your head, look to the side, fake being surprised but he’s not convinced. You sidestepped, and he follows, and this goes on for the better part of two minutes before he just lets you go. You see him standing around with some friends, namely Sebastian, and you glare. As if on cue, the tiny sophomore turns his head to stare and gets so pale you could mistake him for a southern hick.  
He runs before you have the chance to even contemplate how you’re going to catch him. Sebastian just looks very confused.  
After a while of chasing with no success, you manage to catch up to him, just barely, before he bolts into a locker room. The last of the PE kids yell in surprise as Squarewave makes a fatal dive after tripping on someone’s bag, and you stand over him triumphantly. The dog has made the first successful catch of the day. It’s like the Animal Channel in here.  
He starts begging, hands waving frantically in front of him in an attempt to ward you off. You aren’t impressed at all. Before he can finish his plea for help, you bend down and snap back up, pulling him up by the collar of his fully buttoned polo shirt and he yelps when the back of his head connects with the lockers and makes a loud bang.  
You let him go, but corner him in the changing area, smashing your fist into his cheek and jaw once, twice, a third time. This continues until a surprised gasp comes from the open stall right beside you. You turn, and your throat tightens around a sound of confusion, your hand still gripping Squarewave’s shirt, but your eyes are caught on the tan boy in front of you, only in his boxers and an odd skin colored undershirt.  
Your brain is slow to realize who it is, but when you hear him talk, you’re immediately rubbed the wrong way.  
“What the fuck is going on?” He asks, seemingly confused and you’re about as confused when he brings his arms up to his chest as if to cover himself. He looks like he’s blushing, and you haven’t got a clue why, except that maybe he’s gay or something, and Squarewave takes the opportunity to slip from your grasp. You turn to watch him leave but you look back at Dirk in confusion.  
“Dude, stop- Stop staring at me, what the fuck?” He snaps, and suddenly it’s like a light bulb goes off in your head and you can feel yourself flush the darkest shade of red you could possibly go as you sputter in embarrassment. When Dirk realizes what it is you’ve discovered, he turns impossibly redder but his face is still as stoic as before.  
“I uh- Sorry, I’ll just- just go then,” And you turn and run before he can respond, and you find Squarewave hunched against the wall and panting heavily, rubbing his cheek and jaw. You grab him, and he yelps again, surprised, and slam him into the wall. You swear when you hear an adults voice barking your name and Squarewave whimpers like the little shit he is.  
You admit defeat and unhand the small hispanic boy, turning slowly with your hands up and a sly grin as you turn to face whoever it is making your blood boil. Of course, it’s Mr. English, and you glare at him as you walks over as quick as his ‘adventurer’ legs can carry him in his old age. He grabs you by the forearm and you wince in his grip, rolling your eyes and laughing.  
“Got a strong grip there, grandpa. What’re you gonna do next, call me a bad boy?” You joke with him, and he drags you to the office.  
In the end, you get a stern talking to and a week of detention on the first day of school. You go home to a rather pissed off mother and your sisters just chuckle at you as she yells at you about not getting into fight for the third time since Summer started, but you don’t actually care. You have much more important things to think about, like how the Anime Kid has tits and how you’re going to handle this new information.  
Your mind wanders and you have to splash water in your face as if you’re some sort of bad pet, and laugh at the idea.  
So what if the kid has boobs? It just looks like he has some extra meat on his bones, and that never hurt anybody. Curves too, he had some pretty nice curves. The nice ass on him makes sense too, you think, and then you catch your thoughts. You’re a mildly disgusted at yourself for immediately objectifying him just because you realized he was attractive under all those huge hoodies of his. You think you’ll consult Roxy and Rose about this little issue of yours some other time.  
When you get to your room, you lay in bed and crack your back in boredom, staring at the ceiling while you think. You try to think about anything but Dirk, forcing yourself to think about how pissed you are at Mr. English and how much you hate Squarewave.  
You can’t keep yourself from Dirk, you find after the third trying to will your thoughts away. You think about his pretty milk chocolate eyes, the way his eyes got all wide when he saw you beating the living hell out of Squarewave. You think about the way he walks like he owns a classroom, how you were oblivious despite the way he swings his hips when he walks. The way he bites and licks his lips when he concentrates during class and how he stretches every so often, rubbing his eyes like an adorable little fucker.  
You really do hate this kid, but you let yourself sink into the mattress with a resigned sigh.  
Yeah, you’re pretty fucking hot for Dirk fucking Strider.


End file.
